


there's thunder in our hearts

by smallblip



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Character's Name Spelled as Hanji, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Female Hange Zoë, Fluff and Angst, Gangster Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Underage, depending on where you're from and what's considered 'underaged'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblip/pseuds/smallblip
Summary: The city cuts like the edges of broken glass. Hanji Zoë is the daughter of the biggest crime family in the city and Levi Ackerman is a street rat. The Zoës are at war with every rival gang, the Ackermans included. But Hanji thinks of Levi in the quiet between dawn and dusk because he is the only one who can stop it from hurting.
Relationships: Levi/Hange Zoë
Comments: 28
Kudos: 104





	1. Peonies

**Author's Note:**

> Star-crossed lovers, gangsters, the yakuza, the works!

  
The city cuts like the edges of broken glass and Hanji has learnt to avoid the shards. She toes around them in a practiced dance. She learns, first, from the back of her father’s hand. And now, from the pain of being someone’s wife. 

”It’s going to hurt darling. Try and think of something pleasant.” 

Hanji feels the needle on her back. She winces and the steady buzz of the needle against her skin shrouds the room. 

“Don’t you think it’s ridiculous that my brothers got their tattoos from killing a man... I’ve killed so many...” Hanji says, chuckling humourlessly, “and I’m only getting them because I got married off...” 

“We’re women... That’s how things are...” the reply comes, familiar and unsatisfactory. 

“I never chose to be a woman...” she says, and there’s laughter at her petulance. 

Hanji’s mind wanders and she’s nine again, walking down the street that leads towards town. Her hair is cropped short, and she’s wearing shorts in the summer. 

Hanji sees him. 

There are sirens chasing his feet and he’s running when he bumps into her. He looks about her age but he’s smaller. She sees the loaves in his arms. He looks at her wide-eyed. And soon she’s running, dragging him through the networked alleyways she knows, imprinted in muscle memory. 

When the sirens fade, she sticks out a hand, “I’m Hanji!” She says, and watches as the boy shakes it, tentative. 

“Levi.”

“Now Levi... I’m going to walk you home. And if anyone tries anything, we’ll take them together, okay?” She says, elbowing his side, grinning like a champion. 

Levi’s frown only gets deeper, but he nods nonetheless. There’s utility in his new acquaintance he thinks. For one, the other kid is taller than him.

Hanji follows him underground. Her mother always has her nose upturned when they pass. Hanji helps Levi with the bread and they’re walking towards a house with a red lantern. She knows what that means. Heard the adults talking about it once. The rates differ in different parts of the city, but the service rendered is the same. 

“Levi! Where have you been! You-“ the woman looks to Levi, then to the loaves in his arms. Her expression falls into abject disappointment. Levi looks a little too guilty. So Hanji steps in-

“Hi Missus Levi, I’m Hanji, Levi’s friend. I got the loaves for him. My mother baked too much you see... Didn’t want them to go to waste!” 

And Levi gapes at his new acquaintance’s eloquence. 

“Levi you made a friend! Hanji was it? You can call me Kuchel, love...” she smiles and already she’s setting three teacups on a tray. “Can you stay for tea, Hanji?” 

Hanji beams. 

She thinks about the tea now, black tea and lavender. The taste of her adolescence. The taste of him on the tip of her tongue. She aches. 

⇢

Hanji undresses in front of her mirror. She cranes her neck and traces a finger over the flaking skin atop her healing tattoo. A Phoenix for victory, rebirth and fire. It’s surrounded by flowers. Peonies for honour. And cherry blossoms- painfully fleeting yet beautiful- like life itself. It’s symbolism befitting a Zoë. 

_Zoë means life._

She hears it spoken like a mantra. The life that runs through the veins of the city. The biggest crime family this city has ever known- both the poison and the cure. There's nothing they do that hasn't already been done through years of government corruption ravaging the city to its bones. And above it all, the Zoës offer a unique means of help for many. Protection, provision, salvation, the lot. It's a business spanning generations. Generations of cultivating political connections, and of enemies made. 

“There are people who will hurt you Hanji.” Her mother tells her, resolute. “The Ackermans especially-“

This city is too small and the others are no longer satisfied with crumbs. 

Her father slams a fist on the table, and Hanji jumps. “The Ackermans are scum! Every living Ackerman is vermin to be exterminated.” Her father interjects, and her mother withdraws into herself. But she’s smiling. There’s a certain pride to be had when your husband is the most powerful man in the city. “Do not hesitate Hanji. Never hesitate. Because they will show you no mercy.” That’s the only conversation she remembers her father having with her. And yet she sees him sometimes, in the point of her chin and the curve of her nose. And now she sees him in the ink on her body like an oath to her clan.

The Phoenix for rebirth and victory. Cherry blossoms for all of life’s beauty. 

And peonies for a happy marriage.

⇢

There are few benefits of being a Zoë. There are even fewer benefits of being the only daughter. 

But Hanji has all the stubbornness of any brilliant child. And she learns fast. She doesn’t hesitate when it comes to her enemies staring down the barrel of her gun. But she saves enough humanity even for the least deserving. 

Her father learns to trust her, knows she’s more capable then any of his sons. He sets his leather belt down, but the thing about scars- just how stubborn they are- made salient by fervent picking and sunlight. 

Under the cover of night Hanji is on the hunt. Her guns loaded by her hips and a knife snug against her leg. She walks into a bakery and hears the familiar “sorry we’re closed for the day-“ but the couple behind the counter freeze. Immediately they’re kneeling in front of her. 

“I see...” Hanji sighs, “so you know why I’m here?” 

They nod, hands pressed together in a prayer. “Business has been slow these days Miss Hanji...”

Hanji sits in front of them, crossing her legs. “I know... The economy really isn’t looking up huh...” She tugs on their arms and urges them to sit with her.

“We’ll have your protection money by the end of the week! We promise!” The husband says, and Hanji chuckles. It stops them from shaking.

“I understand... But I won’t be the one knocking on your door anymore... I’m getting married...” she smiles, considering, the economy isn’t going to pick up by the end of the week. “Don’t worry about this month’s protection money... I’ve got it!” Hanji gets up to leave, but not without buying the leftover loaves of bread. The couple thank her and throw in all the sweet rolls for free. Been a while since she’s had sweet rolls. They wish her a happy marriage and an even happier life, and Hanji thinks to correct them, but she smiles, deciding that no amount of denial will change things. 

She distributes the bread to the rough sleepers and she’s back in her empty apartment, having a sweet roll. 

⇢

Hanji is ten when she gets her first taste of a sweet roll, more specifically, a honey bun. 

Hanji wipes her tears with the back of her hand before entering the house, and the smell of a warm oven hits her. Kuchel got a day job as a waitress downtown and it puts better food on the table. So she sets out to make the best honey buns ever. 

Hanji watches as Kuchel kneads the dough and she asks to help. Her little hands work clumsily to shape the dough and Levi is beside her, placing her malformed buns onto a baking sheet. When the buns are in the oven, Levi pulls Hanji to his room. “You look stupid...” he points at her swollen eyes, “you’ve been crying again...” his voice is gentle as he pats her head awkwardly. Hanji feels the lump forming in her throat. She sniffles. 

“Where did he hit you?”

Hanji hesitates before rolling her trousers up and Levi’s frown deepens. The lashes snake up her calves, past where Hanji has her pant legs bunched up at her thighs. 

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore...” Levi says, resolute, hands curled into fists. “I’ll protect you.” After all, Levi makes quick work of the older kids giving them trouble at the park. Hanji helps of course. And they hide their bruises and scrapes from Kuchel. But a mother knows. She also knows she cannot protect Levi forever. He’s an Ackerman after all, and their family has never known to shy away from trouble.

Hanji rubs at her eyes. She's smiling now, but she makes Levi promise to never show up at her house. They will spare no mercy to an Ackerman. Levi cannot protect her, but he finds her each time, halfway between her house and his, and he takes her to his place and patches her up wordlessly.

But for now, the buns are out the oven and the world makes sense amidst the heavy scent of sweet honey and cinnamon. 

“Now the secret ingredient is a generous helping of cinnamon sugar,” Kuchel smiles, rolling the buns in the sandy mix, and Hanji looks on in awe. 

“Something sweet every once in a while will take all your troubles away...” Kuchel taps her finger to the tip of Hanji’s nose, “and for everything else, Hanji, you know you will always have a place here.” 

And Hanji stares wide-eyed at her, the guilt now gnawing unbearably at her. She figures she should come clean to Kuchel about who she is. 

“Alright,” Kuchel says matter of fact, like she has always known, “now... Miss Hanji Zoë... Would you mind helping me with the tea?” 

All eyes are on Hanji when she has her first taste. Her eyes light up. 

_Well?_

Hanji decides it’s the best thing she will ever taste.

⇢

The roof of the old factory makes for a good spot to watch the city from. From up here, everything shimmers like distant stars. The rust of the city blurs to a warm mahogany and the bustle fades to a whisper. Up here the people beneath cannot hurt her. She comes here when she has trouble sleeping. There’s just too much on her mind these days and it’s difficult to keep her thoughts quiet. 

She sits on the edge of the building and there’s a piece of candy on the ground, predictable as a promise. The candy is Hanji’s favourite- a piece of toffee wrapped in cellophane. It tastes like Spring at the marketplace. She remembers the man that makes it. 

It’s her tenth birthday and she has to be home by dinner time, but now she’s at the marketplace with Levi and it’s her best birthday yet. Levi grabs one as he passes and hands it over to Hanji later. She’s not allowed to have any at home, it’s not good for her, but she has lied about worse. 

“Happy birthday four eyes!” He says, presenting the candy on his palm. They’re in his tiny little closet of a room so he’s out of earshot of his mother and she won’t chide him for using that name on Hanji. But Hanji doesn’t mind. She shrieks with joy before swiping the candy from him. 

“This is the best gift ever, Levi!” She says and it embarrasses Levi a little. He blushes but tries to conceal it with a frown. His friend is loud and silly and a piece of candy can’t possibly compare to the presents she must get at home. 

“When I’m older, I’ll be rich and I’ll buy you a real present...” he says, toeing the floor. But Hanji is sucking on her sweet, content as she rearranges the flowers that have dried in the corner of his room.

They are fourteen when Levi starts working for his uncle- little jobs here and there. Levi is good with a knife, a little too adept, and Kenny Ackerman finds use for a boy small enough to squeeze through tight spaces. He sneaks out the house when his mother’s not home. She doesn’t want him associating with her side of the family. But the Ackermans find their own. They always do. 

They’re fourteen when Levi buys Hanji a birthday present- a little glass frog wearing a dress. “To go with the other ugly one you have...” he says, “the one wearing the stupid top hat...” 

And Hanji pulls him into a hug. She kisses him on the cheek and goes on about his perfect gift and how perfect it would indeed look in her room beside her other frog. She doesn’t notice how flustered he is.

Hanji is fourteen when she lies in bed recounting the events of the day. She thinks of the kiss and how careless she had been. She wonders what it had meant to her. And she wonders if it meant anything to Levi. 

⇢

The next time she thinks about him, she’s getting married to the governor’s son. She’s thinking of him a lot more, and she’s too tired to try and stop herself. 

Her mother tells her she belongs to her husband now. And that she can honour the family name by honouring him. Her father reminds her again the strategic importance of their marriage. And Hanji wants nothing more than to run. But she knows her legs can only carry her so far before they give. 

Hanji’s hair is long now, combed into a bun. And they took her glasses off her. Behind her veil she sees her husband, he gets to wear his glasses. His frown matches her ambivalence. 

They kneel and bow to one another. It’s hard to move. Her dress is heavy and it’s hard to breathe in a room full of people watching her every move. 

She’s never one to care, but she hears it nonetheless. Every snide remark and icy comment. She heard it when she was a child when her parents were discussing potential suitors, and her future marriage prospects. Sure she does a good job with the family business. But they are still disappointed with how their only daughter turned out. Hears it when they put her in her wedding dress. _Ugly child, messy child, a disgrace to the family name._ Hanji is never one to care. But it still fucks with her like a splinter. 

And she thinks of her favourite summer dress at age sixteen and she remembers the brush of a hand against hers. Levi doesn’t comment on her dress, but she sees his eyes widen in surprise and she’s amused. He only says something when he’s trying to get her out of the dress and the buttons prove a challenge. “What a shitty dress...” he had mumbled. And Hanji had laughed. “They’re fake buttons, idiot!” She had said as she pulled the dress over her head. 

She thinks of the look on Levi’s face, the glimmer in his eyes and the pursing of his lips like he’s deep in thought as he stared at her, and she wonders what it had meant. She had lost herself in that look. 

The memory provides some semblance of relief- like the pulling of a splinter. 

Her husband lifts the veil from her face and Hanji doesn’t allow herself to cry. 

⇢

  
Hanji should know better than to speak up at a meeting. Her place is beside her husband and anything more is an aberration. But she has a point to make about the demolition works in the underground. 

“You have to rehouse the people somewhere. House them in the new projects, they’re struggling to find enough tenants anyway. Besides it wouldn’t be good for your campaign if you leave these people on the streets.” 

She’s not wrong. And that had been the problem. 

He strikes her just as the door closes behind them in their apartment. There’s no time. Not even to turn the lights on. One strike. It comes with a warning that Hanji doesn’t hear. 

The door opens and slams shut. He’s gone and she’s left standing in the dark. There’s bile in the back of her throat but she swallows all the bitterness the world has dealt her. She hardens her face and stills her breathing. 

⇢

Hanji doesn’t know why she is wandering the streets, cardigan pulled close. She is honest with herself, has always been, so she knows her husband is at his secretary’s apartment, the one he bought her, she can only imagine the things he’s doing to her, but she feels nothing. She imagines pulling a knife to his throat, imagines pressing it against his artery. But she knows she’s as good as dead if she dares. 

She goes to the only place that still feels like home. 

She climbs up the fire escape of the old factory, making sure her blouse doesn’t snag on the rusted ladder. 

The view is expected, but it never fails to amaze her. The sun has set, but it leaves a trail of pink and gold in its wake. At moments like these she remembers the beauty of her city. Like the dandelions that grow from broken concrete, and the wet tap of rain on cobblestones, blooming like lilies.

What isn’t expected is the silhouette of someone else sitting on the roof. Even from a distance, the shape in dim light is familiar, cigarette pinched between fingers. 

Hanji feels her heart stop when he turns to look at her. And she sees the shock spread across his face. He’s standing now, so close to her that she resists the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. So she doesn’t resist. He’s real, as real as the skies now painted over with black ink, as real as the streetlights below, more real than the stars above. 

“Hanji...” he breathes and she thinks she doesn’t know pain quite as divine.

“Hello Levi...” 


	2. Cherry blossoms

Levi is sixteen and Hanji is wearing his jacket. In every universe, that means something. They’re sitting on the roof of the old factory. There’s a small breeze kicking up but Hanji’s hand is in his and it sends warmth coursing through him. 

“Here!” She hands him one end of her earphones and they listen to the radio. Hanji tells him when her favourite song comes on and Levi feels his heart swell at the sight of her humming and swaying along. He kisses her when the music subsides from a swell, her hands are on his chest where his heart is beating an erratic rhythm and his hands are in her hair. Hanji tastes like the candy he has stashed away in his pockets, the ones she likes.

“This is our song now...” she says, beaming when they pull apart to breathe. And Levi is still seeing stars, head spinning, lungs straining. “Yeah... Okay...” he says. And he knows he’ll probably agree to everything she says.

They are young and invincible.

⇢

They’re sitting on the edge of the building, Hanji has her feet dangling, kicking idly. The city feels calmer tonight. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here...” she breaks the silence and wonders if it has always been this quiet with him. It’s been too long. 

“I didn’t either... I come here sometimes...” he says, a little sheepish in his admission. 

“Me too.” Hanji smiles. “You leave me candy...”

And there’s a lift in the corners of Levi’s lips. 

“You got married...”

Hanji doesn’t miss the hurt in his voice, it breaks her heart and she forces herself not to be defensive. 

“I did... Six years in the making...” she jests, “snagged myself a big fish...” 

Levi snorts, he shifts in closer to her. The winds are getting stronger and Hanji is sitting too close to the edge. 

“Does he treat you well?” 

The question hurts Hanji in a way she had told herself she’d never hurt again. She lets the feeling run through every nerve in her body.

“I can’t complain...” she forces a smile.

“That’s good...” Levi replies. He’s looking at her, and she suspects he knows she’s lying. 

Hanji sees the years that have gone by in the changes in his face. There’s a severity in his eyes, and his cheeks have lost their youthful fullness. He’s a man now. 

They talk with a comfortable ease that comes with knowing someone, their ins and outs, their mannerisms, what makes them laugh. And Levi exploits that knowledge. Hanji has imagined this moment for years, in the moments where she’s left in her own head. But it feels ordinary in the most beautiful way. Like cereal for breakfast in the morning while watching bad sitcom reruns, sitting across from someone who feels like home. 

When it’s teetering on the edge of midnight he says, “Can I see you again?”

Hanji smiles. And she’s young again, making promises on rooftops.

  
⇢

  
“Remember we take what we can from the vaults... We’re one job away from living on the streets.” Kenny orders, and Levi eyes him with disdain. Kenny’s lying. They’re probably doing better than ever, Kenny has managed to weasel his way into the favours of a few rich merchants. Soon a turf war will erupt between the Ackermans and the Zoës and there'll be more funerals to plan than they can manage. 

Levi breathes a word of caution to his uncle, one wrong move and they’ll be decimated. Stealing from rich folk, that’s one thing, but stealing from the Zoës themselves. That’s as good as suicide. 

But Levi is a hypocrite, as he’ll soon learn. 

They manage to break into the vault easily enough. Years of escaping the law speaks volumes of their craft. 

“Only take the gold and the cash. Leave everything else. Would be hard to get rid of the rest of their shit... They’ve got eyes all over the blackmarket...” 

“Heard that’s gonna be his gift to his daughter on her wedding...” Farlan nudges into Levi’s side as they shovel the gold into bags, he gestures to one of the vases on the shelf. It's a dismal, inorganic shade of brown, and it resembles something sepulchral. “It’s not even his most expensive one...”

“Definitely his ugliest...” Levi scoffs. 

Levi is back in his apartment and the wedding is briefly covered on the news. He is on his fifth pour of whiskey and he smirks when he sees a Ming vase in the pile of wedding gifts. He had seen it in the vaults. It's markedly more beautiful than the one her father had planned on giving her- the one he now has sitting on his shelf. It provides some semblance of comfort. 

⇢

When they meet again, Levi frowns as he points out the blood stain on her crisp white shirt.

“Hmm?” She says looking to where he’s pointing, she chuckles when she notices. “Oh! Shoot! There goes my best white shirt...” 

“Wait... Is that your blood?” Levi says, concerned after setting his priorities straight. 

“What a disappointing question Levi...” she says, and he rolls his eyes. 

“The Jaegers?” He asks. 

“Yeah... They’ve been very aggressive lately. I heard Grisha is ill, so his sons have taken over the business.” 

“They’re stupid,” Levi knows. He’s come up against the brothers before. They’re ambitious, but careless, a bark far worse than bite. “They’ve been brawling with everyone.” 

“Once all of you figure out working together would be more efficient, we wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

Levi smiles, “you sound like you’re instigating something, Zoë...” 

“Nothing that can be traced back to me, Ackerman.” She winks.

“You got your tattoos...” Levi says, and Hanji faces her back to him, already working her buttons off. 

“I did!” she shrugs off the shoulders of her shirt and holds the fabric to her chest. And he sees it. A Phoenix for strength, cherry blossoms for all the beauty life has to offer, and peonies for bravery. 

“Suits you...” Levi says, clearing his throat. He tries to tear his gaze off her as her fingers work over her buttons again. Tries not to think about the warmth of her skin. 

It’s getting late and Hanji has business at the pub. Before she leaves, Levi pulls her down, removing the hair tie that’s dangling off her ponytail. He puts her hair in a braid and tells her to be safe.

“I want to see you again, Levi...” Hanji says, urgency in her voice as she checks her pistols. 

And this becomes a habit.

  
⇢

  
Levi visits the cemetery. He pulls at the weeds, signs of time passed since his last visit. He feels guilty, but he’s been so busy. He sets the lavenders down, they were her favourite.

Levi sighs and apologises for not visiting as often as he should. He tells her about Kenny working them to the bone and about Hanji and how he knows it’s his fault. He should’ve run away with her back then. Their chances of not getting caught had been slim- but that chance has since become a missed opportunity. 

He brushes the dust from the unmarked grave. This was what his mother wanted. Nothing good ever comes from being an Ackerman. But it’s all Levi has left. 

He remembers the night she died. Remembers Kenny seeing his sister for the first time in years. Remembers the look on Kenny’s face when he had been too slow to let go of Hanji’s hand. 

He walks past his old home on the way back to his old apartment, and he sees himself and Hanji, age sixteen, dashing from the back alley into his room. The rain is relentless and they’re dripping onto the floorboards. No matter, there’s still time to clean up before his mother comes home. Not that he ever got into any trouble when Hanji visits, his mother loves her. 

When Levi shifts his attention back to her, she’s shimmying out of her clothes and working the binding around her chest. Soon they unravel to fall at her feet. Levi’s jaw drops, he tries but he can’t peel his gaze away. 

“Forget that I’m a girl?” Hanji teases and Levi feels all the blood rush to his cheeks. He tries not to stare but really, it’s hard when you’re sixteen. “N-no... Did you?” Levi stutters a challenge. 

Hanji laughs. “I don’t mind if it’s you, Levi...” this is the last thing he remembers her saying before they’re kissing. 

It’s clumsy and Levi wonders if it’s supposed to be this wet and if there’s supposed to be so much teeth involved. Also, Hanji’s hair is soaking and clinging to his face, but already it’s so hard to breathe. He remembers hands exploring the barest of skin and the sound of her voice amidst the tapping of rain on galvanised roofs. They get dressed later, Hanji comfortable and content in his clothes. She smells like home and Levi thinks that in this life, he’s only really meant to love one girl.

“So... How was it!” Hanji asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes, like the look she gives after trying new candy or watching a new film. 

“Acceptable...” Levi says with a shrug, as nonchalant as he can manage.

And Hanji laughs, bright and silvery, even now, in his memories, Levi hears it, clear as day.

  
⇢

When you live in a place long enough, it becomes a habit. You learn it’s crevices, it’s secret gives, little places of neglect perfect for a rendezvous. It’s still light out. Hanji knows the risk, and she knows the consequences of getting caught. It’s difficult to tell shadows from enemies in the city, so Levi drives them a little further out. They're lying in the middle of a field, and it becomes easier to forget cacophony of impatient traffic and the stark reality of pulling a trigger. 

Levi picks a dandelion puff and passes it to Hanji. She twirls the stem between gentle fingers. 

“This city is dying...” Hanji says. 

“It’s always been like this...” Levi replies. This Hanji knows to be true. She hears it’s laboured breath, the wheeze of its industries and the broken cogs of its people. She watches as different factions vie for power and the futility that comes with struggling. The streets have been bloodier these days. The police have retreated behind the skirts of whoever lines their pockets. There's something brewing like a storm in the distance. She feels it in her bones, and she knows Levi feels its anxious beat too. And she wonders if she would be further from all this death and decay if she had never met Levi. 

She sees the grey of concrete when she closes her eyes. But Levi’s fingertips search for hers in the grass. She holds his hand. A burning glow spreads and it prickles in her chest. Hanji rolls onto her stomach. She props her head on an elbow and turns to look at him. She has a smile on her face- it’s a playful smile and Levi knows she’s trouble; loves that she’s trouble. But he will never admit to this. 

Not when they were young and he’s scowling while trailing after the mess she makes. Not now when she’s a burgeoning storm threatening to spill over the edges. 

But Levi’s only looking at her; has only ever looked at her. 

And her gaze is soft now as it skims past his features. He’s a man now. Tired and disillusioned. It shows in the greys of his eyes. But his lips are as soft as she remembers, and he still tastes the same. He pulls apart quicker than she'd like but in that brief moment, she stops thinking about death and decay.

There’s wonder in his eyes, and Hanji gets her answer. 

"Make a wish, Levi!" She says, holding the dandelion out to him. 

He blows and the seeds scatter on feathered wings- promises of yellow blooms like the sun. 

She smiles, the back of her hand is resting on her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. "Mmmm... That's a good one... I can tell."

  
⇢

“What’s your name?” Hanji asks, her gun remains pointed at the boy. 

“Farlan.” The boy answers, face hardened. But his hands are shaking where they’re placed over his head.

“And Farlan, you’re with the Ackermans?” 

He nods.

“What were you trying to do here?” 

“Scouting... Drug supply routes... We wanted to intercept...”

“That’s a solid plan Farlan...” she lowers her gun. 

Hanji sees the hypocrisy of having a moral code in this line of work. But she could never get used to killing someone. Not when she feels the recoil from the gun and she imagines the pressure propelling her bullet through skin and tissue and muscle. Not when she calls for someone to clean the blood off the streets after. Death is messy work. 

She thinks of the lives they could have led if she hadn’t killed them. There’s one her father’s age and she wonders if he had children and if he treats them with kindness. There’s one about her age and she thinks of the life he has yet to live, of the life she has been denied. She thinks about the person who’s going to mourn him, and she wonders if she’ll ever survive seeing Levi’s body in a casket. She says a prayer for all of them and lets the guilt gnaw at her in her sleep. They grow claws, scratching on the inside of her skull, and making her dream of crimson and bone and ash. 

And she’s looking at Farlan now, young and alive and a little careless. She wonders what he’s aching for today. 

“It’s a solid plan but maybe next time try not setting off the alarms?” She chides, and she sends him away with a warning of death. 

When she returns to her father, deed undone, he gives her a bruise so the whole city will see that she has failed her family. That she is weak. But the dull throbbing does nothing to distract from the screams she hears at night and the gunshots ringing in her head. Hanji thinks maybe she deserves to hear it. 

  
⇢

They’re in the stairwell of a parking garage and Hanji brings a bottle of wine to share. 

“You stole this?”

“I _borrowed_ it from home!” She clarifies, placing her bottle in her shoe and knocking it against the wall. “Wait... I’ve seen this done before... It's way harder than it looks.” 

Eventually enough pressure is built and the cork slips. She’s laughing and explaining the process to him excitedly and she takes a big gulp. She hands the bottle to him, but he’s been staring at her face. The bruising purple on her cheek, stretching dangerously close to her eye. 

“Hanji...” he sighs. 

“I’m fine! I just walked into a glass door the other day!” Hanji chuckles, “you would’ve laughed.” 

Levi accepts the explanation but he knows. Farlan had told him about Hanji Zoë sparing his life, and Levi can only imagine the punishment came swift for her. 

He takes the bottle from her and drinks. 

“This is fucking shitty wine Hanji...” he forces himself to swallow. 

Hanji’s laughter echoes in the stairwell. “I know... But this is a vintage!” 

It’s a little cramped but Hanji has the radio on and they’re dancing to the songs she knows. She climbs up a few steps and lets herself fall into his arms. 

“A little warning next time?” He growls, heart racing for various reasons. “You caught me didn’t you?” She's laughing and he sways her to a slow song and he thinks it feels exquisite to hold her again. 

He traces a finger along the outline of her bruise, he’s gentle so it doesn’t hurt and she looks at him. There's enough pressure building, just waiting for a slip. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, soft like the wind. His voice makes her heart dance. She shakes her head, eyes brimming. 

“Be careful with the glass doors next time four eyes...” 

  
⇢

  
It’s a simple protection job gone awry. The Ackermans had been asked to transport the political opposition to and from an event when they were attacked by sympathisers of the incumbent governor. 

What began as a simple protection job became a shootout. Levi is a deadly shot, but they manage to get one of his men first. It’s a dangerous life. They know the risks. But it still fills Levi with a rage he first felt when he had seen the bruises on his mother’s face. When he had learnt that some things are set in stone, deeper than what can be weathered away by rain- and no amount of struggling against the current will change things. But he's still Levi who had grown up underground, Levi who has fought his whole life to exist, to be, Levi who has devoted himself to everything he cannot have. And he can't help but feel responsible. 

But Levi Ackerman has earned himself a reputation for a reason. 

He gets the job done and they retrieve the body of their own. The Ackermans will pay for the funeral. The family of the deceased will mourn his passing, talk about how beautiful his short life had been amidst the heinous backdrop that is the city. They will kneel and bow, and kneel and bow, and kneel and bow until the ritual of passing is absolute. 

For now, Levi is driving down a familiar road. He’s running a little late. There’s blood in his nails and there’s a gash in his arm where a a knife had been pulled. There’s blood on the leather of his seat. 

When Hanji gets in the car her face falls, “Fuck Levi... What happened?” 

“I’m fine.” Levi says, his knuckles are white from gripping the wheel. There’s too much adrenaline in his system and he needs something to sink his teeth into. Something to lose himself in.

“I’ll patch you up. But we can’t do it here.”

“I know a place.”

She drives them to a motel where the owner knows better than to tell. He owes Levi, and Hanji wonders if this is too much to ask because she sees the way the man’s eyes widen in recognition when he sees her. 

It’s stuffy in room. There’s a ceiling fan whirring overhead, stirring up the smell of rust and disinfectant. Hanji bandages Levi’s arm where it’s bleeding onto his shirt. The wound is a little deeper than she’d like but this will have to do for now. She touches her fingers to her lips and presses her fingers atop the bandages, “all done...”. Her voice is a whisper because Levi is looking at her now and there’s something swimming in the greys of his eyes. The same light that was there when they were fifteen and he had watched her dance to her favourite song on the radio. She leans in like a challenge. She dares him to pull back, to say they’re making a mistake. To tell her this moment is one to be remembered as a moment of pain, the peeling of an old scab for it to bleed again.

But he closes the distance between them and kisses her with a hunger that comes with being acquainted with death. She feels the tension in her chest unwinding. Because they’ve been impossibly careful around one another. Like he’s afraid she’ll shatter if he comes closer. But Hanji’s not one to favour delaying the inevitable. 

She kisses him back with enough fury to draw blood and his fingers are gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. The bed frame screams bloody murder beneath them and Hanji urges him to go harder and harder and harder until she's seeing stars when she screws her eyes shut. There's pleasure and pain in equal parts and the feeling fills her to the brim. She forgets about the clawing emptiness. Levi says her name like it’s the only thing he has left to tether him to this world. 

She has her head in his lap when they watch television after. Levi smells like soap and he threads his fingers through her hair like it’s any other evening. It’s ordinary in the most beautiful way. 

“I have to get to the docks at 8 tomorrow, there’s something I need to check in on...” Hanji groans.

“Set an alarm. I’ll drop you off round the corner you can walk.” 

“Sorry... That would mean it’s just you and the kids at home again...” Hanji chuckles, and Levi forgets about the movie playing on television. 

He grunts. “I’ll be alright. But be back for dinner. You know how the brats are like...”

“Wait... How many brats do we have?” Hanji turns to face Levi, fingers reaching to brush against his lips.

“Two?” 

“Two sounds reasonable...” Hanji laughs, “once they’re old enough for school we’ll have time to ourselves again. We could stay in bed all day.” She turns to press a kiss to his stomach.

Levi thinks that’s a life worth living. 

  
⇢

  
There’s an altercation downtown. 

Kenny has been toying with the idea of challenging the Zoës, emboldening the Ackermans to engage in little skirmishes in Zoë territory. Levi is on cleanup duty. He doesn't kill any of theirs, but he's trying to give his people an opening to flee. Too many deaths would escalate petty clashes to civil war. 

From where he is pressed against the corner of a brick wall for cover, he feels the cool blade of a knife pressed to his neck from behind him. "Levi! What did I tell you about coming to my place of business?" She jests, and Levi flips their positions. He's holding a gun against the back of her head. "I guess I missed you..." he replies, deadpan. 

Hanji chuckles. "But seriously... Your boys are getting in the way." She pulls out another knife from its sheath on her chest and she's it's threateningly close to his crotch.

"I'm trying..." Levi seethes when Hanji pulls his arm into a lock. He flinches when she applies pressure, but he hooks his leg around hers and trips her, pinning her to the ground. "You’re using what I taught you against me. Try harder Hanji.” 

Hanji grins, there's a glint in her eyes that's suspiciously smug. She manages to shift his weight off him and she's on her feet again. 

"Better..." He smirks and Hanji is pleased with herself.

  
⇢

  
It’s the dead of night when the rain comes as a sudden downpour. Hanji is holding his hand, making a run for shelter, laughing like a couple of teenagers. It’s perhaps a little late for this racket, but nobody listens this closely in the night. 

Levi stops them in the small street and she turns to him, surprised. The rain falls between them like a veil. They’re both soaked to the bones. He closes the distance between them, lifting the veil of precipitation in front of her face. The rain falls glass around them, blossoming as lilies atop the cobblestone. He presses his forehead to hers and she closes her eyes. There’s something in her throat, it constricts slowly, deliciously, and Hanji struggles to breathe. Levi kisses her to the thunder rumbling in the distance. Hanji thinks this is what drowning feels like. She kisses him back with fervour. “This is the perfect weather to look for tadpoles...” she says when they pull apart.

And Levi scoffs. He remembers standing over her with an umbrella as she fished about in the pond, bringing a mass of wriggling black spots close to his face. He helps her wrangle frogs into her hands although he honestly hates their slimy skin and their weird eyes. But Levi’s has never had friends stick around this long, so he thinks maybe indulging Hanji every once in a while isn’t so bad. She tells him the things she learns about them from her book and she gives them names. Together, they share custody of the forty two frogs Hanji has caught and let go. 

Maybe it really isn’t bad at all. 

_Fuck Hanji... The things you do to me..._

Levi whispers, and hopes that the static of the rain would drown out the tenderness. But Hanji is smiling at him and she tells him she loves him too.

Hanji wrings her clothes before she enters her apartment. But she leaves puddles wherever she walks. She toes around gently, but there’s a light on down the hall. Her husband is pouring himself another drink. He had just got home too, his tie loosened around his neck. It’s a hard day at work, Hanji can tell. Her father had been the same. Hanji knows what’s coming next.

He eyes her from head to dripping toe. 

“Where have you been?” He asks.

“I went for a walk...” 

His fingers close around her wrist hard enough to bruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the macaroni art of all Gangster fics! I hope the gangster bits are alright? I don't really know what I'm doing but hey! Also apologies in advance for any mistakes!  
> All gangster tips and tricks are welcome 💖💖💖  
> As always, thank you for leaving comments and lil hearts! 💖💖💖


	3. Like walking on broken glass

Hanji wonders when she had last heard the sound of a glass bottle shattering. It’s been a while. 

She walks into the pharmacy and gathers a few items in a basket. The boy behind the counter stares at her arm in shock. He has gone pale and Hanji hopes he doesn't have a weak stomach.

“This is what happens when you try and bathe your pet cat...” She says, playful grin on her face. The boy manages a polite laugh and checks out her items. 

Hanji sits at an empty bus stop, pouring a bottle of water over the cuts on her arm. Thankfully none of the shards are lodged in her. She dabs a gauze and wraps herself up. “There you go Hanji...” she whispers to herself before sighing, exhaling a long breath she has been holding from the moment she raised her arm and the sound of broken glass reverberated in her skull like a nightmare.

It’s been a while.

And she would be lying to herself if she says she isn’t the least bit shaken. 

Her clothes are damp. There’s a breeze kicking up and she feels like ice. She finishes the rest of her water and goes to the only place she can think of. 

The city works in strange ways and it has forced Hanji into a corner. It's strange the rules of the game- you know the address of your lover by heart even though you know never to visit. Maybe that's love- an endless string of what ifs and maybes. Hanji thinks of this and it leads to her hesitating at the door, her fist an inch from wood. But this is the only place she can think of to go, the only place where she wouldn't hate herself for being so afraid of a little broken glass. 

She knocks.

His eyes widen when he sees her at the door. He's only just said goodbye to her a few hours ago, and now she's here, pushing him back into the warmth of his apartment and kissing him with searing urgency. 

_Hey-_ He whispers as she tears at his shirt. It wouldn't make sense to call intimacy ill-advised. After all, there’s little else worth living for. And a little pleasure is welcome where it’s available. He remembers their last time at the motel. Levi would be lying if he said he hasn’t been thinking of Hanji- how it feels to be impossibly close to her again until it’s difficult to tell where he ended and where she began. The memory of how she sounds, how she smells, how she _tastes,_ mingling with his waking thoughts and contributing to an inconvenient strain in his pants.

But there’s caution where danger lurks behind want. _Why now? We’ve stayed away for so long. Why are we doing this now?_

But Levi feels courage surging through his bones, a courage that comes with lust- or is it love? The same courage he had found when he was sixteen and he asks Hanji if it’s okay to-

It’s too late, Levi feels the pressure growing. He hisses when Hanji slides her hand over the bulge in his trousers. 

There’s something about the way she's forcing hurt down his throat that nudges them towards urgency, towards teeth and nails and a forcefulness that is born of the city. But it would be inaccurate to call this novel. He wants to still them. He sees the bandages on her arm that are now seeping blood. But he also sees the look in her eyes, she's begging for more time- _Not now. Later. After._

So Levi loves her first. 

He doesn't say anything. There's always time for words. Feeling her skin beneath his- that takes time. So he stretches out the night, leaving a trail of kisses, like the falling of rain against the earth. She asks for more of him. She asks him to make her forget. And he gives, urged on by the way she trembles at his touch. Urged on by how much he wants her. All of her. 

Levi thinks he can do this forever, watch her rut against him as they come down from their highs. 

He pulls her close, and she chuckles, "aren't you going to complain that we're sticky and gross?" 

"Don't remind me..." Levi grunts, pushing her hair away from her face. "Come on... Get up." He says, reaching over to turn the lamp on and pulling Hanji to sit. 

His fingers trace her arm. He's gentle. He has always been. She nods and he removes the bandage. Her wounds are bleeding, tearing from the way she had been holding onto him for dear life. 

Levi examines her arm wordlessly, free hand clenching white-knuckled on his lap.

"Hey..." Hanji leans forward and presses a kiss on his brows, hoping to ease the furrow that has settled. 

"Just say the word and I'll kill him." He says, wrapping fresh bandages around her arm. He's gentle. He has always been. 

She laughs, "we talked about stealing each other's kills, Levi..." 

He smiles, but there's guilt swimming in his eyes. He turns off the lights and pulls her against his chest. Levi feels dread creeping in his system. He never wants day to break. Levi thinks he can do this forever. 

"I'm sorry." He says against her hair. She still smells like the rain. A drizzle is starting up again and it taps against the window, a reminder of the world around them.

"Don't be..." Hanji says. She wants to tell him he’s all the good that’s left in her life and he has absolutely nothing to be sorry about. But the adrenaline is fading and her eyelids are heavy. “You’re here now...” she murmurs.

⇢

  
Hanji is six when she dreams of another life. 

“Your daughter needs to get her head out of the clouds.” People say to her parents. But it’s something you can’t beat out of a child. Hanji doesn’t make friends at school. They don’t share her enthusiasm for frogs or the stories she tells about the trees and the shapes in the clouds. 

She’s going through the motions of living. A little husk blowing through the house, building an alternate existence somewhere safe from the shouting and the burn of leather on split skin. She imagines somewhere out there maybe there’s someone who will lie next to her in the grass and look at the skies, blow on dandelion puffs. But for now she’s Hanji and she has yet to know loneliness. 

When she’s nine, she meets Levi. He has no interest in frogs, he hates their slimy skin and their weird eyes, Hanji can tell. He doesn’t see shapes in the clouds. Levi also pushes her away when she clings onto him. “You’re weird and you smell funny!” He would say, and Hanji would laugh. 

Yet, she doesn’t feel the least bit offended even though she really should be. Because she’s caked in mud and grime and there are grass stains on her shorts, so she understands.

Maybe she doesn’t feel offended because he listens to her stories about the trees and he learns the names of flowers because somehow it means something to her. He listens to her stories about the dandelion- 

The yellow bloom as brilliant as the sun, the puff silver like the moon, and the seeds drifting across the skies like stars. And he plucks them for Hanji to make wishes on. 

He’s even gentle with the frogs she places in his hands even though he’s squirming. 

Maybe she knows there’s nothing cruel behind his harsh words and scowling because his eyes linger on her bruises and the lashes on her legs. And those days he allows her to drag him along for any gross, sweaty misadventure her mind conjures. He allows it when she pulls him close. 

When Hanji is nine, she thinks maybe it’s the first time her eyes are open. There’s beauty in the way her nanny would lie to cover up for her absence. And there’s excitement in the way her windows open wide enough for her to fit through and slip off into the night.

It’s almost daybreak when she slips back into her room through the open window, and her brother is in her room. Hanji freezes. He’s pursing his lips, like there’s a difficult decision to be made. One he had already decided upon when he had entered the empty room with the window ajar.

Hanji pleads with him. 

Hanji is crying so hard she sees stars. Her brother almost looks guilty, but it’s too late. There’s no sparing their father’s fury. The sound of broken glass joins the cacophony. At that sound, she feels paralysis run like lightning through her body. She goes limp.

It’s quiet in the room where there’s a bolt against the window.

Hanji is nine when she learns loneliness, and she knows she’ll do anything to rid of the feeling. 

She learns to pick locks. 

The next time she learns to cover her tracks.

⇢

Erwin Smith is a strange one. 

Hanji has heard his speeches on the television. He’s the most radical politician this city has seen in years. The difference is made more stark against her husband’s conservatism. He is also backed by the Ackermans. Levi has talked about him. Erwin has somehow managed to gain his trust. She has no reason to question Erwin Smith’s motives, considering her own husband’s intentions. 

She bumps into him when he’s sitting at the same bus stop. The buses don’t run on this street anymore. Erwin is eating an ice cream. 

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone in these areas...” Hanji says. It’s strange seeing Erwin in real life. But he still carries with him an aura of gravity and intensity. Yet, he seems almost personable in his flip flops and shorts.

“Ah... You’re Hanji Zoë aren’t you?”

Hanji nods. Erwin offers her his other ice cream in the plastic bag. “Don’t worry... It’s not poisoned... Besides, I shouldn’t be eating so many...” 

“Thank you...” She laughs and peels at the wrapper, “so what are you doing in this part of town?” 

“I used to live here... Right over there...” he points at the council flats across the street. 

“There are rumours of a plan to tear it down...” Hanji says. 

“Should you be telling me that?” Erwin laughs a deep baritone. Hanji shrugs. “I hate that plan... Tried to veto it.” 

“Ah... Consistent with the things I’ve heard about you...” 

“And what have you heard about me Mr Smith?” Hanji smiles. 

“Only good things...” Erwin smiles. “Not to subject you to more political advertising but... If you vote for me I’m proposing upgrading for the council flats.” 

Hanji laughs, “much needed... I’ll be sure to take note of it...”

“You have good people on your side, Erwin...” she continues.

“Ah... You know the Ackermans?” 

Hanji grins, “it’s a small industry we’re in...” 

She offers him a cigarette and he takes one, but not before asking her to keep this a secret. Wouldn’t look good if he tries campaigning against smoking in the future. She lights his cigarette then her own. 

“This city’s a real fixer upper...” she sighs.

"There's always hope, Hanji..." Erwin says, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“We’re all counting on you then...” Hanji says, absentmindedly. Her eyes are trailed on the flats in front of her. There are few lights still on at this time of the night. There’s a calm that has settled itself between the streets. Somewhere in one of those homes, a little boy is dreaming of a better life for the city. She smiles. 

“Wouldn’t your husband mind?” 

“I’m not telling if you aren’t...” she winks.

“This is our little secret then.” Erwin grins.

Hanji offers to walk him, but Erwin declines. He’ll take a detour past his old home. He can manage. 

The next time Hanji sees him, he’s on television and her husband is next to her, the hand he has on the armrest clenching into a fist. She breaks a private smile. 

⇢

Levi is eighteen when his mother dies. It’s an open casket affair in their little house. Some drop by to pay their respects, a few neighbours maybe. Hanji sees her sunken cheeks, and her hair that has lost its glow. The disease had been unkind, but even so, Hanji thinks Kuchel is the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.

They are sitting at the back of the room and although Hanji had cracked a window open, the room still reeks of death. Levi is holding her hand like his life depends on it. She had never once seen him cry, and even now, he’s holding a front. But Hanji sees the cracks in the dam. 

Ill as she had been, Kuchel still braided Hanji’s hair, just as she had done when Hanji had been younger. The past few days had been spent by the bed, watching as Kuchel struggle with the porridge they made her. "My angels... I feel much better..." she would say between sips, and Hanji finds it increasingly difficult to pretend to believe her. Levi hides his grief behind lips raw from biting. 

When his mother passed, Levi felt guilty for feeling almost relieved. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to see his mother in pain anymore. He was scared, and he’s scared now. 

Everything is spinning out of control, but there’s a voice that brings him back to the present- 

_take care of each other._

The door slams open and Levi is too slow to let go of Hanji’s hand.

⇢

The rooftops are no longer safe. There are eyes all over the city now. The Jaegers are undecided on which side to play, and in this period of indecision, the balance has been upset. 

But Hanji knows how to cling to the shadows. Three knocks and she finds herself in Levi’s arms.

She chases his kisses and sits herself on his lap, draping her arms around his shoulders. Hanji giggles when she feels his breath hitch in anticipation of what’s to come. His eyes rake over her and she feels blood pulsing hot under his skin. 

She kisses the spot between his brows, and his frown relaxes. “Hello my love...” Hanji whispers against Levi's skin and his gaze is gentle and wanting.

“Four eyes...” he says, pulling her glasses off and placing them beside by the bed. His gaze doesn’t leave hers. 

Hanji laughs, “how romantic...” 

“Only to you,” Levi shrugs, brushing his thumb on the corner of her lips. She leans into the touch. 

“Whoa! Hold your horses cowboy... If you keep this up I’ll have to lose my pants...” 

And Levi helps Hanji with just that, tugging her trousers off as she wriggles her hips. And she’s laughing, breathless and bashful when he has his head between her thighs. She writhes when he breathes on her. 

And soon he’s ravaging her, drinking up her moans. When Hanji scrunches her face Levi knows she’s close. He teases her with his tongue until she comes undone beneath him. 

“How was it?” He says, looking up at her from between her legs. 

“Acceptable...” she says with a shrug and Levi rolls his eyes. _Idiot_ , he mutters. Well, he probably deserves it. But there's a certain pride that swells in his chest when he sees the state she's in. Hanji's eyes are still glassy as she pulls him up to meet her lips, and she tastes herself in the heat of his mouth. Her nerves are sparking with a vengeance and she shudders when he touches her. 

She finishes her work on his half unbuttoned shirt but fumbles with his belt, fingers too eager and clumsy. 

“We don’t have all day Hanji...” Levi teases and she laughs, gladly letting him undo his own pants. 

Levi pushes into her achingly slow, and there’s a part of Hanji that wishes someone would chance by now, that someone would see them and they would have to die. Because only Levi can make her feel alive. And it’s clear she can’t stay away. 

"Did I hurt you?" Levi asks when they're huddled together. Hanji has kicked the duvet off somewhere but it'll be too hot under the sheets anyway. There's panic coursing through him as he traces his fingers over the bruises on her body. 

“Never you, Levi...” she nuzzles her nose into the crook of his neck. 

Levi wants to take away her pain but he doesn’t know how. He admits to her that he doesn't know how.

“You already have...” she smiles against his skin.   
  


⇢

They are eighteen when Hanji is betrothed. And Levi waits in the shadows for her to return to her room that night.

In a flash, she grabs her knife off its hilt on her thigh and lunges at him. She pins him to the floor, straddling him as she holds her knife close to his face.

“What’s the price on your head, Levi Ackerman?” Hanji says, her tone is collected, she grips her knife with a practiced ease. But Levi sees the fury in her eyes. Hanji has always held a terrifying capacity for wrath. 

Levi doesn't say anything. He doesn’t put up a struggle and she knows. They’ve wrestled around enough to know. There’s a sadness in his eyes and Hanji figures why he’s here. It’s the same piece of information but it’s different when you hear it on the television. That makes it real. 

Her grip on the knife loosens. 

“This feels like when we were kids...” Hanji says. They’re lying in bed now and she has her hands stretched out in front of her, she squints, obscuring the light with her fingers. “I told you not to come here, Levi...” 

He turns his head to look at her. “I needed to see you...” 

“That’s very selfish of you...” Hanji rolls on her stomach to look at him. 

“I know...” 

She leans in closer. “Are you here to ask me about my marriage? You can...” she says, gently. Because she sees the terror in his eyes.

“When?”

“After his father becomes the new governor... My father will make sure of it.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty shitty if I’m being honest,” Hanji chuckles, “I just... Wish we had run away Levi...” she says. She thinks about all the time between that they’ve lost. _Hanji... We can’t._ Levi had said. The city has already marked her for sacrifice. The Zoës wouldn't have it any other way. 

“You know they would’ve caught us...” he says, resolute. And Hanji sighs. She knows. And she regrets the argument they had. What little time they had together lost because she couldn’t reel in her anger. “And I can’t...” he breathes, “I can’t protect you from that...” 

“I know...” she’s brushing the back of her hand against Levi’s, tentative, like she’s testing the waters because it has been too long. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night... I got scared and acted like an idiot.” 

Levi laces their fingers together. He feels an ache that only Hanji Zoë can conjure. It has been a while. “I miss you...” he says.

“Me too...” she says as she watches Levi’s gaze trace over her eyes, down the line of her nose, over her lips pulled to a smile. He furrows his brows for a moment, considering, and there’s that look again. She laughs at the face, pulled into an unreadable expression. “You’re making a stupid face...” she says, but her words are cut off when Levi kisses her. 

“This is goodbye isn’t it...” she musters the courage to say, a warm breath against soft lips, “that’s what you came here for...” 

When he leaves that night she wonders how a human heart can shatter like glass.

⇢

They return home from a rally. It's been a while, but Hanji still hasn't gotten used to the feeling of pretending to be someone's wife. She tries to look the part, but everything becomes obvious under the glare of the spotlights. 

There's a hand on her waist that disappears once they manage to evade the flashing lights. 

Hanji is ushered into a black limousine, but before she ducks her head past the door she catches a glimpse of him. 

He's in a suit today, hair slicked back. Hanji can't quite seem to tear her gaze away. There's a little humour in this moment, she thinks, she's just a girl with a crush on the most beautiful boy she knows, and there's pride in the knowledge that he belongs to her. And in that split second of liminality- in what seems like eternity, his eyes meet hers. 

"Drive." She hears her husband say from somewhere beside her. 

She offers a smile, a private one, just for him. And she gets lost in the small curve of his lips.

Hanji stares out the window in the car ride home. The radio is playing and she almost forgets where she is. 

At home her husband is talking on the phone. The rally didn't go as planned and if it hadn't been evident from the cheers resounding from the crows, it is now in the harshness of his voice. Erwin pulls ahead in the popularity votes. There's a fearlessness in his promises that strikes the heart of a community squandered by broken politics. Hanji thinks maybe in this moment she can empathise with him. His father had expectations. As the outgoing governor, the transition of power to him should've been easy. But her father did too, and like Hanji, he's certain to disappoint. 

His voice grows increasingly muffled as he closes the door to the study. 

Hanji presses a ear to the door again, it feels like a game she had played when she was a child listening in on her father's business conversations. The things you learn from hushed whispers, how they creep past the walls and threaten betrayal. And oh the things she has heard. They dance around in her head, joining arms and growing legs of their own. Soon they'll have enough strength to walk, to dream of revolution. 

She considers her next move very carefully. One wrong move and the city will be thrown into chaos. But the current order- the one in which Hanji has grown up in- grown around- the current order eats into her like a dull knife pushing past tissue and bone. It's only a matter of time before it finds her heart. And Hanji has been avoiding the shards of broken glass for so long that her walk has become a sidle. She thinks it would be nice to stretch her legs for once, to dance, a lover's head on her shoulder, to run-

Hanji picks up the phone and dials a number. 

_I have information on the governor’s son._

⇢

“The papers are running an exposé on the governor’s son.”

Levi grunts a reply, fingers slipping from the pry he had held between two panels of the Venetian blinds. He turns his attention from the streets back to Erwin. 

“Is this her doing?” Erwin asks. And Levi asks him why he’s asking when he already knows the answer.

Erwin smiles. 

“Will she be safe?”

“No one’s ever safe in this city. She has made her choice.” 

“So I expect you’ll try and keep her safe?” Erwin raises a brow, there’s a smile growing on his face. Nothing escapes him. 

He remembers Hanji finding him. Kenny’s mistake had him staring down the barrel of a Zoë’s gun. But Hanji finds him anyway. She tells him to run, and her bullets join the crossfire. The next time, he takes a bullet for her, it gets lodged in his shoulder, but she gets it out and stitches him up.

_We’ll take care of each other, Levi._

"I will..." Levi says with enough conviction to break his initial trepidation at Hanji's decision. 

"Even if it kills you?" Erwin asks. It’s more rhetorical than anything. He already knows the answer. "Ah... Young love..." he remarks, chuckling as he leans back on his chair. 

Levi scoffs, fingers finding their way to the blinds again. The cherry blossoms will be in bloom soon.   
  


⇢

“As of now he’s about to lag behind on the polls. And now an article exposing corruption? We can’t have an investigation on our tail!” 

Hanji watches as her father’s right hand man speaks, his face twisted with hate. They all know what he’s insinuating. 

“Dead journalists are not good for business.” Her father says, his words are final. 

As expected, her father brings up Erwin Smith. 

“Dead politicians are not good for business either.” Hanji says. Her father laughs humourlessly before continuing-

“Brave of the fucking Ackermans to back someone. Maybe we should teach them their place. What do you think, Hanji?” 

Hanji’s jaw clenches, but her face betrays nothing. She shrugs.

“Ah... That’s right... You’re never very willing to kill an Ackerman... And I’ve always wondered... Why?” He’s standing now, approaching her with a quiet intensity in his stride. 

She holds her tongue. And her father almost misses how her hand slides instinctively over the knife on her leg. Almost.

He smirks. 

_You’ve always been so fucking stubborn, Hanji._

⇢

Stick to the shadows-

Hanji reminds herself. _Stick to the-_

_shadows._

But her body is numb, cold sweat clinging to her skin like regret. Hanji is tired, she wants to stop, wants to sit on the curb and rest. To close her eyes and drift off into nothingness. But she climbs. 

Climbs until she reaches familiarity. She's late and he's already standing at the door waiting. 

Levi takes in the blood on Hanji's shirt, a crimson that has turned to rust on her daffodil blouse. 

“Fuck Hanji-“ 

“Eren Jaeger is dead...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! It's been a while! Haven't been feeling it, but it's slowly coming back! Also this fic turned out a lot... more than I thought it would be? So it took a while to rejig! @anon on tumblr: look! It's Erwin Smith! 
> 
> I hope it's gooooood! We're reaching the end folks! Sit tight buckle up! Don't expect too much!
> 
> Also I've been hanging out more on tumblr and writing drabbles so if that's ya thing: smallblip.tumblr.com/tagged/drabbles or smallblip.tumblr.com/tagged/mine if you wanna look at more stuff (headcanons included). 💖💖💖

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitated putting this out for quite a while, because I'm not good at writing/describing action scenes, and I was just never pleased with this. But I did enjoy writing/imagining it, and that's all that matters? 
> 
> This will be a mini-chaptered fic (3-4 chapters), so feel free to drop a message/comment and talk about it with me! Tell me your favourite gangster headcanons! Come with me on this journey that I'm very afraid to walk!


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